


Another Reason Dean Winchester is Going to Hell

by ashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gun Fu, Humor, M/M, Priest Kink, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes/pseuds/ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after Castiel was killed at Chuck's, Dean and Sam stumble across someone who could be a new vessel for their missing friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Reason Dean Winchester is Going to Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorcererhuntress](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sorcererhuntress), [ratiocinational](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ratiocinational).



> This was originally posted on Tumblr in response to... not quite a dare, but more a running joke in sorcererhuntress's livestream about Mexican Priest Castiel, in response to all the priest kink that came about in regards to the whole Divine thing. Anyway, it's intended to be funny. Let it be known that I know nothing about Mexican priests, or Mexican culture, or Mexico. But I've been informed that it's Catholicism with guns. And possibly Spanish. I'm working off so many stereotypes that it actually hurts. XD
> 
> I initially stated this was the worst idea I ever agreed to, but I've since concluded that "Naaaaah, I've agreed to way worse."

They make it to the doors of the little church in a rush -- as Dean and Sam lean back against the old wood he feels it bow under the weight of the three guys possessed. "They can't come in," Sam says, a worried edge to his voice.

"Yeah, 'cause them following the rules during the freakin' Apocalypse has done us well so far." Dean feels like shit. They're so far south in Texas that every hour feels like baking in a dry dusty oven. His throat is raw and he's sticky with sweat and he smells like -- like balls on a hot day, that's what he smells like. He's so done with these demons. A small (hell, large) part of him misses Castiel, though it's been months since he was blown up at Chuck's. He'd have had these demons done by now.

So it's awkward when the priest is looking at them from around the frame of a side door, eyebrows raised, dressed like he's ready for full ceremony with that smudge of white at his collar. He's got a rosary wound around one hand, the other resting at his hip.

"Move along, Padre!" Dean yells as the demons thunder against the door again -- hell but they are determined to drag Sam back to their boss. "We'll take care of this and clean up when we're done."

The priest raises an eyebrow as he strides down the aisle. He produces a handgun from a clean slit down the side of his cassock. Sam and Dean barely manage to get out of the before he fires three shots clean through the door and pulls a long iron bar down over it, fitting it into a couple metal slots screwed in the back.

Dean will not admit to that lighting a little fire in his belly, because damn. Had he seen a girl do that he'd have her halfway to bed already.

The priest turns back to them and says, "You boys have a demon problem. That should hold them for a bit. Follow me."

"Thank you," Sam says, following along, and damn but Dean still a little impressed. The gun couldn't have killed the demons -- it's not like the Colt.

As if he can read Dean's mind the priest says, "Soaked for months in holy water; it's not a killing shot, but it stings. Sometimes enough to keep them off. But for you..." He's looking them up and down as though he can tell and Dean scowls in response.

They stop in an untidy office at the back of the church. There's a small plaque that reads "Father Novak" and Dean raises an eyebrow and elbows Sam. "Novak isn't exactly the most... ethnic name," he finishes lamely. The priest shrugs, opening a closet and pushing the robes aside to yank open a secret panel.

"My father was a drifter, I'm told. Drifted away before I was born."

Dean can almost see the resemblance to the late Jimmy Novak -- in the broad shapes of his face, in the gravel of his voice. Dean can't believe he's about the do this, but he bows his head and says a little prayer. _Cas, if you're still in one piece somewhere, we may have found you a ride._

And he hates himself, the part of him screaming that he was raised to _stop_ innocent people from getting possessed, but it's not like Castiel is the bad guy, and he has to ask first...

Father Novak is pumping a shotgun, handing it off to Sam. "The Winchester's, correct? Your reputation as hunters precedes you." Dean takes the next offered gun, almost disappointed when nothing happens. Long shot anyhow.

They hear the demons beating on the door, more of them now if Dean has to guess. Father Novak shoves them along to a set of stairs, instructing Sam as to where he keeps his devil's traps -- in the basement, of course, best place, Dean wants to grouse -- and Sam is down the stairs twice as fast as the rest of them.

And then it happens. That low whine starts, and Father Novak stops, stares at the ceiling slack-jawed. The whine increases, and Dean falls backwards on the stairs, slapping his hands over his ears and squinting his eyes, head between his knees. Some small part of him regrets saying anything, but then there's a burning flash he can feel through his eyelids, and in another minute the noise stops. Dean can feel the blood dripping down his face over his lips, and someone is shaking him.

It's obvious that Father Novak isn't at the wheel when Dean looks in his eyes. He breathes out, and all he can think to say is, "It's in his blood?"

Father Novak -- _Castiel_ nods, and is hauling Dean down the stairs as the demons are coming to the head. They pass Sam in time to see him hopping off a ladder, wide trap chalked on the cement ceiling over the only entrance from the stairs to the basement.

It's actually kind of funny, Dean has to admit -- the demons (five now) come barrelling down the stairs in such a rush that they run right into the edge of trap like the damn coyote into a cliff face. Castiel has it from there, and Sam is raising an eyebrow. "Again, man? You were kind of rough on the last one."

Castiel looks down at the body he's wearing, all tanned and draped in black. He loosens the collar a bit, undoes the first couple buttons. "He was very honored to have this legacy," he says eventually, and somehow it _sounds_ like Castiel, even if the voice is totally different. "What has happened while I was away?"

***

They end up back at the hotel room. Sam wins rock-paper-scissors ("Dick," Dean says under his breath as the door closes behind him). Castiel stands around looking unsure of his body, stretching his arms and rolling his new shoulders. "You alright there?"

Castiel nods. "This body is different. I was... accustomed to Jimmy. I miss it. These clothes are stifling."

And conspicuous. Dean nods towards his duffel. "You're welcome to whatever fits." He leans back on the bed, and realizes a moment too late that he should have specified _when Sam gets out of the bathroom_ because Castiel starts carefully undoing each of the million buttons down his front with slow precise motions -- as though he's concentrating on each motion.

Dean's mouth somehow goes drier, and he's glad for the whiskey on his side table. He swigs straight from the bottle, and he swears Castiel looks at him with fondness. It's weird, because Father Novak really doesn't look like Jimmy, but Castiel's mannerisms and expressions within it are so familiar that he almost doesn't notice.

Castiel is slipping the thing from his shoulders when he finally says, "I missed you, Dean. My largest regret was not dying, but dying without you knowing that I would miss you." Castiel looks perplexed as he speaks, folding the priest's clothing to the side as he stands there, naked and unashamed and Dean is going to _Hell_ because he can't look away when Castiel crouches down to riffling through the duffel. He's got more muscle than Jimmy, but not a lot -- strong legs, scars raked down his back, a firm --

"I missed you too," he blurts, squeezing his eyes shut and willing his body _no_. Just _no_. But then Castiel, holding jeans and a t-shirt but still entirely too naked _sits next to him on the bed_ , and reaches out to touch Dean's cheek. Dean's eyes open, and his heart is racing, and there really is such fondness in Castiel's eyes (no longer blue but entirely Cas underneath) that Dean knows he's going to be making out with an angel in a priest's body before the week is out.

He's most certainly going to Hell.


End file.
